


Me das algo más

by lonely_night



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mirka is banter, Roger is dumb, no disrespect meant!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 10:45:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15289818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonely_night/pseuds/lonely_night
Summary: Roger’s feeling sad after Rafa’s Wimbledon defeat and Rafa drops by to cheer him up.Just a one-shot, but I kinda like it :)





	Me das algo más

Roger Federer sat down, his head in his hands, heart heavy.

For some inexplicable reason he had not thought that Rafa would win the match. But it was worse to know that he had been right. He watched Rafa, strained, leave the court, Novak staying behind to celebrate.

Roger hated it. _Celebrate_. Rafa had played just as well, if not better. He missed the Spaniard’s celebrations - Rafa always seemed vibrant but when celebrating a win he appeared luminous in his joy. Roger missed that. He wished Rafa was the one celebrating.

He had nothing against Novak, in fact he was a good friend of both Roger and Rafa, but Roger had always hated how worked up the man could get during a match. Sure, it was stressful. They all found it stressful though, and the way that Novak could shout and fling his racket down was unnerving and unnecessary.

Roger could read it easily in Rafa’s eyes when Novak became angry during the match. The aggressive shouting and the anger radiating of the Serbian, was nothing short of uncomfortable, especially when he was such a different character off the court.

This time it was different though, Roger could read it. Rafa wasn’t just uncomfortable. He was downright terrified of the other man’s constant explosions. Rafa had looked frantic, desperately trying to keep moving, keep playing, trying to draw the attention of the crowd of the other man. Trying to hide from Novak’s anger.

Roger could see that Rafa hadn’t prepared well for his match. He was still exhausted from his draining match against Del Potro. It looked like Rafa hadn’t slept at all in the time that had passed and his eyes looked haunted, wild. Roger wished he had been there. Wished he could have comforted him. Wished he could be there now. Wished he could see him, touch hi-.

Roger broke off his train of thought abruptly. It wouldn’t do.

 

He wished he could have made it to the final after his rather early and therefore humiliating defeat. He wished Rafa could have made it to the final.

He wished, he wished.

But, he sighed, it wasn’t to be.

 

Roger got up.

He missed Rafa.

He missed his smile, the way his eyes would crinkle up at the corners, his prominent laughter lines, tanned face, and kind, shining eyes. His majestic, tousled hair, his deep, caramel eyes that Roger could drown in, his smile that made Roger feel like he could hit a million match points whenever he was the cause of it, his lips that-

Roger stopped himself again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind came a voice that sounded like Mirka saying “oh Roger, you have got yourself into a bit of a pickle, haven’t you?”

 

Roger blinked. It was Mirka.

His wife was smiling softly at him, a hand on his shoulder.

“I-“ Roger started, unsure of what to say.

“It’s okay, love, he just called.”

“What?” Asked Roger, confused.

“Rafa,” Mirka clarified, “he was just on the phone, he wondered if he could come see you tomorrow, drop by, y’know.”

“Uh,” Roger was stuck again. Words appeared to be failing him.

Mirka laughed, “lucky for you I’m taking the kids out to my parents’ tomorrow, so I guess you two’ll have the place to yourselves.”

Roger was utterly dumbstruck, “blub,” he said, stupidly.

Mirka grinned, but then looked suddenly serious, “you treat him right, okay, Rog?”

Roger managed to retain his voice enough to say, “yes.”

“Good,” replied Mirka, seeming satisfied,

“Mirka,” said Roger, “thank you.”

A huge, warm smile spreading across her face Mirka said softly, “you’re very welcome, Roger.”

She turned off the TV.

“Now,” her hands were on her hips, “you better get this place as clean as hell before he arrives; I’m not having Rafa thinking we live in a pig-sty.”

“I don’t think Hell is very clean,” said Roger.

Mirka raised an eyebrow in a challenge, “and plus he’s been round loads of times,” continued Roger, but he hastily added, “I still ought to clean it though,” in response to her strict glare.

Mirka laughed mock-evilly, but Roger was convinced she was dead serious, “damn right you better,” she said.

Roger gulped, “you can be pretty scary sometimes.”

“And that’s the way I like it,” she returned beaming, stalking out the room.

Not wanting to chance the wrath of the evil one, Roger grabbed the hover and set to work.

 

After a fitful and nervous sleep, Roger awoke late next morning to the sound of the doorbell ringing.

Glaring as though it had personally offended him, he looked at the clock.

It was nine in the morning. ‘Oh wow Roger’, he thought, ‘so much class, so much class’ - he hadn’t got up this late for years.

The doorbell continued to ring.

In his hazy, sleep-deprived state Roger wondered why.

 

And then it hit him.

 

 

Oh shit.

Oh shit!

OH SHIT!!!

 

It could only be Rafa.

 

“Down in a minute!” He shouted in the general direction of the door, trying to sound calm.

 

Roger’s brain went into overdrive.

He grabbed a t-shirt from his wardrobe and chucked it on, followed that up with a pair of old jeans, chucked a wet flannel onto his face, and brushed his teeth at light speed.

Then, he sprinted down the hall as though he was running for a drop shot, almost fell down the stairs, and opened the door.

 

The man standing in front of him looked mentally shattered, physically beaten, and was smiling like an angel.

“Hola Rogelio,” greeted Rafa, grinning.

 

Roger’s world stopped abruptly at the sound of the other’s voice.

He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out, only a strained “bleufh.”

Rafa’s joyful laugh filled the silence and Roger just had time to glimpse the Spaniard’s warm brown eyes crinkling perfectly before he was pulled into a hug that was at once soft and decisive. Roger felt both grounded, and as though he was flying.

Rafa was still laughing quietly and the sound cut through his thoughts, the sweet voice seeming to heal him.

“¿Como estas?” Asked Rafa near his ear, his breath comforting and close, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. All Roger could think was ‘ _this, this, this_ ’, and how much he loved it when Rafa spoke Spanish to him.

 

He whimpered.

 

Roger blinked in shock. He had just whimpered.

He was aware of Rafa drawing back as he tried to hide his burning face. Noooo, what had he done?!

“A tí, te gusta cuando hablo español, ¿no?” Murmured Rafa, reaching forward and fiddling with a strand of Roger’s hair.

Roger, being able to speak a limited amount of Spanish and being able to understand slightly less (Rafa was teaching him but it was slow progress), especially with his brain in overdrive, said “Sí”, desperately hoping Rafa had said what he thought he had said.

“Puedo hablar en español si quieres,” said Rafa, his voice slightly deeper, and when Roger looked up, finally able to meet his eyes, he saw that his pupils were blown wide, and his cheeks tinged with red.

“Por favor,” Roger managed to gasp out. He didn’t get any further because his hesitant Spanish was stopped abruptly with a soft and insistent kiss. At first, Roger froze with surprise but then returned the gesture back feverishly, desperately.

 

As the two stumbled backwards into the house, Rafa whispered against his lover’s lips, “te amo.”

Roger almost fell over, “really?” He said in disbelief.

“Of course, Rogelio, since I first saw you!”

Roger blinked - he’d never noticed. It seemed he had been a bit dim when Rafa added, “everyone else thought it was obvious.”

Oops. Roger really was Captain Idiot, but he didn’t care. It was worth it.

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! I know it was short but comments and kudos are always appreciated a ton!  
> Thank you for reading! Xox
> 
>  
> 
> Spanish translations:
> 
> *  
> ”Hello”
> 
> “How are you?”
> 
> “You like it when I speak Spanish, don’t you?”  
> “Yes”  
> “I can speak in Spanish if you want”  
> “Please”
> 
> “I love you”


End file.
